Gone
by auslly-is-adorkable
Summary: She's confused at first, but eventually Ally realizes she's in a hospital. She and Austin were hit by a car. Will she be okay or will she be gone forever? *Auslly*


It's pretty here, quiet. The hills are green, like in fairy tales. The sky is an array of blues and pinks as the dusk creeps up on the day. The only sound I hear is one of running water. I don't know where it's coming from. Maybe a river. I don't really know where I am right now. I don't know where you are.

I suddenly feel compelled to move forward. I'm walking toward the sound, though I don't have control on myself. I peer around and take in the scenery. I'm in a meadow, I think. But I still don't know where. The sounds are increasing in volume as I get closer to whatever it is I'm going to. I manoeuvre around the remaining bushes and trees and my suspicions were right. It's a river. It goes on for miles, it seems. It stretches at least ten feet in width and it's such a brilliant shade of blue I'm in awe. I approach it slowly as my body commands and kneel before it. I stare in to the depths of it and see my reflection. I have a really long scar stretched across my forehead to my cheek, accompanied by a few minor cuts. I have a fat lip.

I'm confused.

Suddenly, I'm not in that place anymore, but in a car with you while you drive. The music is really loud. I know this, but I don't hear it. I'm smiling at you – at us – because I'm happy. You're happy. But there's a feeling I'm unfamiliar with in my gut.

It's fear.

You're going too fast. "Slow down," I tell you, nudging your arm.

"It's fine, Ally," you say happily, ignoring me. You know you've well exceeded the speed limit minutes ago, but you're high on the adrenaline.

"Please," I beg softly. "I don't feel well," I lie.

You do, but it's too late. Because as we're crossing the intersection, we collide with another car, and we're wrapped around the light post on the other side of Main Street. Everything is hazy. I blink slowly, seeing you still, unmoving in the driver's seat. I feel the blood trickling down my limbs. It tickles in a weird way. I want to reach out and wake you, but I'm paralysed. I feel the glass in my forehead and remember the scar I saw. I'm confused again. But the darkness is invasive and it's black.

I'm at the river again suddenly, staring curiously at myself. My fingers graze the cuts. Am I dead? I wonder. No, I decide. Not yet. But where are you? I try to call your name as the memories of you, still and bleeding flood my mind. I sit back, uncomfortable and disoriented. What happened?

My name is Ally, I know. Ally Dawson. Your name is Austin. I like you. A lot. Maybe I love you. We were driving together and the car was hit. Now I'm alone here. Wherever here is.

I'm being pulled away. The colours are fading, desaturated. It's grey here. Lines are blurring and things are meshing together, blending. The river becomes the hills become the sun becomes one. It's all a thing now, grey. I feel claustrophobic.

"Where am I?" I try to say. But I'm speechless.

I miss the sound of my voice. Of your voice. Of our music.

I sit in the centre of the void. I'm in the middle of something, I realize. I don't know what, but I'm there.

"Ally?" I hear.

Austin? Is that you?

"Ally? Please come back to me," you whisper desperately. I look around, searching for a face – your face – but I can't see you.

I cover my ears with my hands as you continue to call me. I can't find you. And it hurts to hear you.

"Ally..."

I'm gone from this place. And it's black. I hear whirring of machines. I hear you breathing. I'm overwhelmed then, because you're here. But I still can't see you. I can't see myself. I can't look down and see myself in my favourite outfit. I can't reach up and check my hair. I'm stuck and still.

But I feel you and it's okay.

Wait. I _feel_ you. You're holding my hand with both of yours. You're sobbing. Your hands are sweating. They're rough from playing guitar. If I could cry, I'm sure I would.

"Ally," you say again, your voice all but a whisper. "I'm sorry I was reckless. It's all my fault. We got hurt because I was stupid. I'm so sorry, Ally, please come back." I'm confused at first, because I'm still here. Why are you asking me to come back? Then I'm sad, because I can hear the pain in your voice. And you're blaming yourself. And you shouldn't. It's not your fault, I want to tell you. The driver drove the red light, not you.

I want to squeeze your hand and tell you to relax. I want to hug you. But I can't.

"If I had slowed down when you said, maybe you... maybe you wouldn't be in a coma," you cry shakily. You sniffle and I can feel you shaking violently. You continue to cry. "I'm so sorry, Ally. I'm so sorry."

I'm in a coma. That means that I'm lying on a bed, hooked to a dozen machines, unconscious while they wait for me to wake up.

_I'm in the practise room at Sonic Boom. Or rather, looking at it, like a movie. I'm there, with you, and we're at the piano, writing a song. I recognize it instantly – Not A Love Song. I laugh as you throw your suggestions at me. Even from wherever I am, I want to smile at us. I'm happy that we're so close. I want to laugh at us for thinking we would never be together. _

Even now, while I'm asleep, we're together. You're making sure of it.

You've always been so good to me. It hurts to hear you punish yourself now. "Please wake up," I hear you say breathlessly.

I'm trying, Austin. I promise.

Something wet hits the back of my hand.

"Sorry," you laugh half-heartedly. "I'm a mess. I'm crying and soaking everything." You gently rub it off, but I didn't mind it being there. You kiss my hand lightly. "I love you."

I love you too, I try to say, though I know it wouldn't have been of use.

You squeeze tighter, like you knew I was thinking it.

_I'm at your last concert. You're singing Superhero, and I'm crying. Trish is holding me, and you're trying not to weep too. But you know what that song does to me. Because it holds so much sentimental value. You wink at me as it ends. I run backstage for tissues. I can't find them and it's hard to see from the buildup. But like a superhero does, you come up behind me with some and you smile. I take a few and wipe my eyes. I'm a mess, I think to myself, to quote you._

_ "I love you," you tell me._

_ I know this already, but it makes me happy anyway. "I love you too."_

"Your dad is on his way," you tell me. Your voice is raspy. You sound scared. I want to wake up and ask you why. You clear your throat but say nothing.

I feel weak. I've been motionless for who knows how long? I want to stretch, but I'm not entirely convinced that I'd be able to even if I was awake.

I hear a door creak open. "Austin," I hear a voice say.

It's my dad's. I want to smile and hug him. But I can't.

"The doctor has to talk to me," he tells you. "And I want you to be here when he does." I can't see you, but I can imagine you swallowing hard and nodding. You get really quiet when you're nervous.

I feel tired even though I'm asleep.

The door opens again. "Mr. Dawson and..." a man says.

"Austin," you tell him hoarsely.

"Austin. Ally hasn't done well. We haven't been able to stop the internal bleeding. She isn't doing as well as we hoped and-"

I tune it out. I'm not worried. I try to focus on another good memory.

_It's prom. You're dancing with me and Trish and Dez are dancing near us. It's a fast song, but we're slow dancing, because you and I break all the rules. I'm laughing. You're grinning ear to ear._

_ "Attention," the principal says, interrupting the music. "It's time to announce the prom king and queen." We redirect ourselves to listen. "Your prom king is... Austin Moon," he says cheerily. There's collective applause and I hug you tightly. "Your prom queen is... Olivia Sutherland!" More chants. I clap loudly and grin. You're a little disappointed that I didn't win. But I'm not, I'm proud of Olivia and I'm really proud of you. _

_ You go and accept your crown graciously and get a picture with Olivia for the wall by the office from previous years. But when you come back to me you put yours on my head and grin. "Crown or no crown," you say before taking my hands, "you're my queen."_

_ And we dance for the rest of the night._

You're sniffling again, and I know you're crying. I'm not sure I want to know why. But I'm so weak I can't comprehend most of what you say. I know you're talking to my dad, though he's not responding. He didn't handle emotion too well. Especially in an abundance. I know he cries in silence about things when he's sad.

"I don't want to let her go," you yell. If I was awake, I would flinch at your tone. "She's not dying! She's fine."

Silence.

"Lester, please, you _can't_ take her off life support," you beg him. Your voice cracks and jumps a few octaves.

It's heartbreaking.

Silence.

"Lester!"

"Austin," my dad says to you. "I don't want her to go either! Alright? She's my daughter! I don't want her gone. But she's not waking up. She's not coming back. Keeping her on support is just giving us false hope. The doctor is coming in half an hour."

You're bawling. "Trish and Dez haven't even come to see her yet!"

"I realize that, but I can't wait until they're home. They're out of cell range. I can't call them. And I can't wait. I'll make sure they're here for the funeral."

What funeral? I'm not dead.

You scream. I want to tell you to stop. You're hurting my ears and you're stressing out my dad. I'm sad. Why can't I wake up?

_It's the day we met._

_"Excuse me," I say to you. "Did you not see the 'please do not play the drums' sign?" I demand._

_And I'm introduced to you. And you're like a puppy. You're so excitable and giddy and creative and happy. I can't help but fall in love._

And I wish I could tell you I loved you one last time.

"I love you, Sweetie," my dad says to me, stroking my hair. He kisses my forehead and squeezes my hand. "Rest in peace."

Then you come and take my hands, and at this point I think you don't care about how sad you look. You're trying not to choke on your tears as you talk to me. "I'm so sorry, Ally. I-I-I-I," you try to say. "I'm so" - you take a breath - "so, sorry. I'll never forgive myself. Please come back to me," you whisper.

And I'm confused again because I'm _not _gone. I'm here.

"I love you," you say. I love you too. "I'll always love you."

The whirring of the machines stops suddenly. It's quiet. Except for the sniffling and stunted breaths. Any energy I've preserved is draining. And I realize I'm dying. This is it.

"Please come back," you whisper.

Then I'm gone.


End file.
